Ninetynine Bottles of Beer on the Wall
by River Tam Kobb
Summary: Never mix drinks and a depressed excommodore. It never ends well.


Title: Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: POTC

Pairing: Jack/Norrington, with talk of Will/Elizabeth/Norrington

Spoilers: Curse of the Black Pearl/Dead Man's Chest

Summary: Never mix drinks and a depressed ex-commander. It never ends well.

For: Becky, who started this OTP with me

Disclaimer: I do not own POTC, Jack, or James. I do wish I owed both of them because then I could put them in a closet and let them do things… -shifty eyes- But sadly I do not. I'm also not making money off this. Please don't sue.

James W. Norrington was getting very close to being very, very drunk. This was a good thing. Beer was a good thing. A very good thing. He liked beer more than he liked most people. He certainly liked beer more than he liked Will Turner or his new little wife. He didn't even call her by her name any more. And for the most part, he spoke of Will only as "Turner" and nothing more. Damn them both for messing things up. It was all **their** fault anyway. They messed up everything, them and that Jack Sparrow.

His grip on the bottle became suddenly firmer at the thought of that man, that Pirate. He hardly spent more than a few moments without thinking about Sparrow. It wasn't his fault of course. It was Sparrow's. It was all the Pirate's fault that James was chasing him across the oceans. It was the Pirate's fault that he had been thrown out of the Navy and was reduced to sitting there, in the middle of pirate-central. Tortuga of all places! How had he ended up in here? He had sunken so low and it was all Jack Sparrow's fault. He wanted to find that pirate and kill him.

He took another drink.

How many bottles was this? He counted them and wrinkled his nose. Fifteen bottles and he still only felt a little tipsy. When had he learned to hold his liquor so well? Well, he had been drinking a lot since Lord Beckett kicked him out of the navy. Still, he was used to being passed out by now. He'd just have to work a little harder. Because when he was asleep, he wasn't thinking about Will and Elizabeth. When he was asleep he didn't think about Jack Sparrow… at least, not like he did when he was awake.

Those dreams, however, where part of what made him drink more. They were just dreams. Dreams never meant anything. They were just a trick from eating the wrong kind of meat, or too much bread, or something like that. Dreams meant nothing unless you let them and James Norrington did not want those dreams to mean anything. He wanted jack hanged, nothing more. Was that so much to ask?

He took another drink.

"Save some for the rest of us, won't you, mate?"

James almost choked on his drink at the voice that he had not heard in months. He stood up and turned to look at the man beside him. Long, unkempt black hair with all manner of things tangled into it: beads, feathers, even bones. Dark brown eyes that were always lit up. A cool smile roamed across his face. It was the face James had been searching for.

"Jack Sparrow!" He said, pulling out his sword.

"Easy there, mate!" Jack raised his hands in the air. "Arresting me here is near impossible." He smirked and shrugged. "Tortuga doesn't have a fancy law system. Besides," he pulled out a small brown bag, "I'll pay for your drinks."

James eyed the bag. Jack was right of course. There was no way he could hang Jack here. He'd have to take him to a civilized city for that. And he couldn't kill him before he brought him in, or else his title would never be restored. "Fine," he said and seethed his sword. He lowered himself back into his chair with a deep heavy sigh. Life was being bitchy to him again. This was not his best day ever.

"Brilliant!" Jack sat down, his voice sounding all too perky to the ex-commodore, who flinched. Jack ordered another two rounds for each of them. James drained his first bottle in seconds flat.

"Easy there, Jamesy boy," Jack smirked and took a sip of his own drink.

"Don't call me that." Was that a slight twitch of Norrington's eyebrow?

"What would you prefer to be called than?" Jack asked gulping down some more of his drink. "Norry? Or maybe J.N. is kind of catchy?" He laughed slightly as Norrington's annoyed look. "Or maybe you'd rather me call you luv?"

James spat out his beer on the table and started coughing loudly. "What in the hell--"

"Relax, mate," Jack could not suppress the roar of laugher that flowed from his lips. "Was only trying to get you to lighten up. Maybe a few more will cheer you up."

"What would 'cheer me up' would be seeing you dangling from a thick rope."

"Really, James, you're affection is very touching. I think I might cry."

"Please do shut up."

"Whatever you say, mate!" He finished off his second drink and ordered yet another two rounds. It was only after drinking these two that James finally started to feel that he was getting close to being very truly drunk. And with that came a little more confidence. He cast a few side long glances at the pirate, who went about happily drinking, not even looking at the other man. How could Sparrow be so calm when he knew Norrington wanted him dead? Sparrow made very little sense to him.

"So where's the wig?" Jack asked after a very long silence. "I seem to recall your hair being slightly whiter."

"They took it when they took my job. Mark of the trade and what not." James could not help but feeling more than a little annoyed at having to talk about this.

"Ah that explains it. You ask me you aren't missing much. Wig does nothing for you, mate. Shame to hide hair nice as yours."

"What do you want with me, Sparrow?" James did not for a second think this was the pirate's way of being social. Everyone wanted something, Jack more so than anyone else.

"I am hurt, James!" Jack put a hand over his heart dramatically. "After all we've been through together you still think I am using you! I thought we'd grown beyond that now."

James looked long and hard at Jack, who finally turned to look at them. Their eyes met and for a brief second, James has a flash back of one of his dreams. He turned away, his face turning a very light shade of pink. Jack, observant as he was, noticed at once. He smirked.

"However," he went on. "If there was something you wanted from me that maybe I would not mind having myself, than there doesn't seem to be a reason for us to hold back, now is there?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," James spat back. "Nor do I want to know. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Why can't you leave me alone?" Jack waited for an answer, and when he didn't get one he went on. "You searched high and low for me, Jamesy boy. Lost your job, your girl, almost your life. Why? Why couldn't you let someone else catch me?"

"I will be the one to catch you, Jack. Let there be no mistake about that! You are mine!"

And suddenly, Jack was very close to James. "Really, luv?" He asked in a whisper. James couldn't move. He only blinked and looked at Jack who was so close he could smell his hair… it smelled good, too; a mix of salty sea wind, citrus, sun, and lime. It was a very pleasant smell.

"What do you think your doing?" James managed to ask, but it came out as a whisper.

"I don't think for the most part. Tends to give me headaches." Jack's hand went to James' knee. "But there are a few things that can cure said headaches."

"Get your filthy hands off of me!" He stood up suddenly. Jack backed off, raising an eyebrow at the other man. "How dare you! You damn, worthless, pirate! You have no right!"

"Just playin' with you, mate." Jack was no longer smirking. "Thought you might be--"

"Be what? Drunk enough to fall into a trick? I am not stupid, Sparrow! I know when I am being toyed with! I don't know what it is you want, but I will never give it to you!" He stormed out of the bar, pushing people out of his way.

James growled as he walked down the dark alleys of Tortuga. He wanted to scream and roar with anger. Who did Jack Sparrow think he was? Had he no shame at all! Using seduction to get something from him? He turned to a wall and pounding his fist against it. "Bloody pirate!" He roared.

Next thing he knew he was on his knees, leaning against the wall. He was crying. The stress of the last few months, the liquor, the dreams, and now Jack's sudden appearance had at last tipped him over the age. He was broken. He had never been broken before. Not even with Elizabeth left with Will. But of course he knew why that wasn't what had broken him. It was because, if he was honest with himself, he had never been in love with Elizabeth. But all of this… being used like that, being torn from everything he had know… he was surprised it had taken this long to cry.

A sound from behind him made James stand and quickly whip the tears away. He turned and saw Jack yet again, staring at him. James opened his mouth to scream at him but he didn't get the chance. Jack grabbed his wrist and pushed him up against the wall.

"Here's the thing, mate," Jack said. "You were right. I did want something from you."

"I knew it," James spat.

"I am a pirate, mate. You knew that. Here's the thing, though. I didn't want what you think I want. Didn't want to hurt you, luv."

"Well I—wait what?" James blinked, thoroughly confused now. "What are you saying, Jack?"

"What do you think I'm saying?" Jack shook his head. "You're a smart guy, Jamesy. You should have figured it out by now. We both now why you chase me. We both know why I won't leave you alone either. Did you find it strange how you always got tips on where I was and what I was doing? Didn't you get strange feelings like someone was watching you? Been following you too, Jamesy."

"You were what!" The anger was back. "What the hell! You have a sick sense of humor, Sparrow!"

"You would be surprised how much I get that, mate." Jack shrugged then moved still closer to James. "Means more coming from you, though." He kissed James firmly on the lips. At first James stood very still but then he gave in. Jack was too cute. Made it hard to resist. Bloody pirate.

"Still hate me?" Jack smirked at him and James glared back.

"Yes."

"Hmm… good."

And for the first time in months James laughed. He blamed the beer.

The End.


End file.
